Turning Poem by Owain Glyn

Inside my head
The wheels are turning.
Not madly, not furiously,
Like the wheel of chance,
Creating misery, or joy.

No, my wheels turn more slowly
Like a Ferris wheel,
The London eye,
Moving, then pausing
To let me feed off the vista.

I see the silver ribbon
Of the river.
Pleasure boats and warships,
Side by side
Resting, on the self-same tide.

With you
The pleasure is a fleeting thing.
White sails struck,
Now cannons roar
Preparing for impending war.

The wheel moves again,
I view the Palace of Westminster.
It's hallowed halls
Where laws are drawn,
And many lies are told.

I see your smile
And drink it in.
Believing it will slake my thirst
To leave me sated
For a while.

With you
The smile lasts only
Until you draw,
Another law
Without consultation.

The wheel moves again
This time,
I see the far horizon.
Should I, now turn away,
From you......today?
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